Saviours Have No Names
by NoOneInteresting
Summary: 1549, feudal Japan. A lone, nameless Samurai searches for redemption. A dreamy courtesan hides her identity. When their paths cross, they realise that freedom comes at a high price... NanashixOC
1. A Man's Needs

Saviours Have No Names

A fanfiction based on 'Sword of the Stranger' – the greatest anime of all time!!! Seriously, if you haven't seen this movie, check it out. It's available to watch online, just do a little bit of cyber searching and you'll find it :D

"Speaking"

'_thinking'_

NB: Nanashi means 'No Name'

Chapter One: A Man's Needs…

The year was 1549.

Japan was a fractured land, broken apart by political instability and economic upheaval. The shogunate - the central government - had fallen apart. Regional Lords and their clans fought to seize power. Many separate provinces sprang up all over Japan, each one trying to conquer its neighbours. Troops of lawless, renegade warriors attacked towns, killing and raping and taking what was not theirs. Conspirators regularly employed ninjas to carry out dishonourable, shady assassinations they knew a samurai would never agree to. Death, violence and strife were normality. Change was in the air.

The year is 1549. This is Japan.

Our story begins in Akaike, a small, impoverished province by the sea. Akaike was a rural town. Most of the people living there were farmers or merchants selling goods imported from China. Like most places in Japan, Akaike had seen its fair share of conflict, and rulership of the town had changed a dozen times in recent years. Presently, it was ruled by a small samurai clan who had so far ruled fairly and treated the citizens well. But as for how long that would last, no one knew for sure.

Towards the Southern end of the town there were a number of shops and markets alongside the usual farms and agriculture. Many travellers passed through this part of town on their journey to the cities in the South, and various shops and establishments had sprung up to meet their needs, thriving on their fleeting custom. One of these establishments was a small teahouse that appeared to be a miniature version of the grand geisha houses in the cities. The teahouse thrived. Geisha had always made good money in spite of the widespread poverty – Afterall, there would always be men who desired the company of beautiful women.

The teahouse was a small but eye-catching building, made of ornately carved Cedarwood with a typical sloping roof. The entrance was decorated with colourful lanterns and charms.

To the left of the entrance, a lone figure stood. He had dark hair, much like everyone in Japan of course, but he was slightly taller than average. Nothing about him particularly stood out, and even if it did he was hidden in shadow anyway, because dusk had set in. However, the dark silhouette of a sheathed sword was visible at his hip. He leaned against the wall of the teahouse and sighed, his arms folded across his chest. Looking out over the twilight horizon, he mused silently.

'The stars sure are bright tonight…'

His name was Nanashi… No Name. If he did ever have a name, he couldn't remember it. He got along fine without one, living an easy life, minding his own business, eating when he was hungry and sleeping beneath the stars. He answered to no one. He had no master. The only person in his life was a young orphaned boy named Kotaro. Oh, and Kotaro's dog, Tobimaru. Nanashi gave the smallest smile as he thought about the two of them. They were inseparable, the boy and his dog.

Nanashi had first met Kotaro four years ago. At that time, the boy was 8 years old. Kotaro was being hunted down by Chinese Ming warriors who sought to kill him and use his blood in a Chinese ritual for immortality. For some reason, Nanashi had been fond of the boy, although he didn't know why. In truth, Kotaro was a wild, disrespectful little brat, but Nanashi had grown to care for him as though he was his own son.

In a battle that had almost taken Nanashi's life, he'd saved the boy from that dark fate. Since then, he'd raised the boy on his own, and Kotaro was now almost 13 years old, and a little bit more respectful than he had been before… Although Nanashi supposed that he would never fully be able to change the child's savage temperament. He had just dropped Kotaro off at a farm nearby, where the boy would be working this summer.

'I wonder how that will go…'

Again, the slight smile.

"You goin' in?"

Nanashi turned to see an old man grinning at him.

"Nani?"

"I said are you goin' in? To the teahouse I mean?" the old man replied, grinning even more.

"I was considering it" Nanashi answered nonchalantly.

"Heheh… watch out for them geisha, young man. They'll bleed you dry. They'll charm you into a stupour and then take all the money you've got… shameless vixens…"

Nanashi chuckled.

"You speak from experience?" he questioned.

"Heheh…" the old man's giddy grin remained fixed on his face. Then he shuffled past Nanashi towards the doorway of the teahouse, as excited as a child about to enter a candy shop.

"I thought geisha weren't to be trusted?" Nanashi asked.

"Still, I don't mind being bled dry every once in a while, if you know what I mean. A man has needs…" he let out a cackle and disappeared into the teahouse.

'_Yeah…'_ Nanashi agreed silently.

Truth be told, there had never been a constant woman in his life. Of course, he'd slept with quite a few in his time, but he'd never felt the need, nor the desire, to get married. But once every so often, his physical urges got the better of him and he found himself in a place much like this one, seeking a brief release in the arms of a woman. He sighed and stepped through the door.

He was greeted by warm lamplight. The walls were creamy in colour, and red tatami mats covered the floor along with snug looking cushions. Silk screens were positioned strategically around the large room in order to deflect 'hidden arrows' of negative chi. These screens were delicately embroidered in expensive reds, blues, greens, silvers and lilacs, depicting elegant scenes of mountains, palaces, flowers and streams. Not that any of the customers particularly cared about the décor. The girls were the main attraction here.

Nanashi made his way into the room. It seemed like a slow night, with only three other customers beside himself. The air smelled like alcohol, sex and perfume. But the thing that struck Nanashi first was the sound. The sounds of music being played. Of course, geisha were skilled artists specialising in playing music. But this music was different. Nanashi scanned to the right-hand side of the room to find the source of the sound. There sat a girl, cross-legged, who appeared to be altogether lost to a different time and place as she played the strings of a shamisen.

"In the midnight rain, does the earth ask the sky:

Can my horizon and your moonlight combine,

And find a place in the indigo?"

The geisha sang the words softly, her hands instinctively adept as they played the instrument cradled in her lap. Her eyes were settled somewhere low, perhaps absentmindedly fixed to a spot on the ground as she sang, apparently oblivious to her surroundings. Nanashi made his way over, sitting nearby. It struck him that there was something odd about the song she sang, and he listened carefully to try and determine what it was that was strange.

"…From dark corners whispers wake,

In mornings I'm left wondering."

His brown eyes studied her. Her thick black hair was swept up on her head in a careful style. She was fairly young, her face painted pale and her rosebud lips scarlet. A pretty girl, as he expected. She would do nicely.

"Dark-cornered whispers call to me:

…Awake; relentless dreams; asleep…"

With a melancholic fall in tone, her song came to an end. No one else seemed to notice, or even care, but the girl smiled wistfully to herself nonetheless.

The subsequent silence felt unnatural, as if the space of the room missed her song. Nanashi began to figure what was strange about her music. Geisha usually sang inoffensive songs about pretty girls or flowers or festivals. The lyrics this girl sang were odd. Inconsistent and illogical, like the disjointed thoughts of a half-conscious mind. He wasn't sure whether he liked it or not. He never really saw much point in music or poetry anyway.

Another girl came and poured a cup of sake and handed it politely to Nanashi. He turned back to the song girl.

"Geisha, where did you learn to play like that? And sing too?"

The girl awoke from her dreamlike haze and snapped her eyes to the samurai.

"Geisha? Don't be insulting. And it's none of your business" she answered tonelessly.

Nanashi sighed and closed his eyes in lethargic exasperation. "I thought courtesans were supposed to be charming"

"I'm not a courtesan. I'm a musician. An artist" she stated proudly.

"Is that so?" Nanashi answered, thoughtfully taking a sip of strong liquor from the cup. "If I paid you, would you play another song for me?"

The girl let out a near silent scoff. "If you want sex, go to one of the other girls."

A large, brutish looking man sitting in the corner fixed his eyes on her at her loud mention of sex. The song girl saw and shuddered nervously.

"Pervert" she muttered under her breath. Glancing back at the brute, she saw that he was still leering at her. His fat tongue slipped out of his mouth and he licked his lips sloppily. The song girl cringed.

"Stop staring at me, Mr. Yeti" she breathed almost inaudibly.

Nanashi looked her over silently, musing on her strange behaviour. She certainly differed from any geisha he'd ever met before. He eventually emerged from his daze to find the song girl staring straight back at him. Her eyebrows were raised.

"Don't you start staring at me as well"

Nanashi's eyes cornered over to the large man. As Nanashi studied the other male, the geisha studied Nanashi. His long black hair was thick, tied at the nape of his neck. The locks at the front that were too short to be tied back formed a messy curtained style, like a fringe that had long since grown out. His expression was weary and serious, but his brown eyes had a certain kindness about them, or so the girl perceived. A long white scar began on his forehead above his right eye, continuing down his cheek and finally ending by his chin. Another scar, a horizontal one, was set across his cheek just below his left eye. His demeanour was casual, as if he'd experienced too much hard work in life and was now making up for it. His coolness was such that it seemed like nothing could ruffle his feathers. But if she looked hard enough, the song girl could see something beneath that. Something intense and still very much alive, flowing underneath the tranquil surface. His shoulders were slightly hunched, as if he carried a dark, invisible weight that he could never shake off. The geisha studied him, trying to guess his element. Without delay she decided that he must be earth. As steady and grounded as earth may be, an earthquake can destroy a whole nation without warning. Yes, he was definitely earth. His robes were shabby and worn around the hems. A very noticeable katana was fixed at his hip. His hand never left it.

"Hey! I asked for your name!" The girl's voice broke Nanashi out of his wary staring contest with the brute.

"Nanashi" he answered.

"No Name?" She screwed up her nose. "Why so evasive? You can tell me the truth, y'know. I won't tell anyone… I'm real good at keeping secrets…" she said, her eyes wide and earnest, as if that would prove her trustworthiness.

"There's no secrets. I have no name" he answered blankly.

She sighed dramatically as if to say she found his lack of imagination boring.

"Fair enough, Mr. Samurai"

"What makes you think I'm a samurai?"

She frowned. "Your sword. And your scars" she stated, pointing.

"Hmm…" he continued to survey her, as if trying to decipher whether or not he was wasting his time with this one. "Aren't you going to play a song, artist?"

She smiled at how he addressed her. "That depends. How much would you pay?" she asked, a playful twinkle appearing in her eyes.

Nanashi sighed wearily and reached a hand into the pouch tied to his side. He pulled out one gold coin and placed it down firmly on the floor before her. She looked at it in disgust.

"Is _that_ all my songs are worth to you, Mr. Samurai?"

"Yes" he answered bluntly.

She pouted, aggravated by the man. "Very well"

She repositioned her shamisen and one hand held the neck. The other clasped the pick. She adjusted her grip slightly and then paused in thought, trying out lyrics in her mind. Nanashi waited, intrigued to hear what she would sing for him. She cleared her throat delicately. Her hands began to pick out a gentle melody.

"Do you think me submissive,

And you, untouchable, with sword?

Samurai, you're seeking more

Than you can afford.

One coin will not suffice here,

It's not the going rate.

The fact is, you're a bad flirt…

…And a real cheap skate."

With an abrupt slam, her hands silenced the strings, and with that, she stood up and flounced past him, knocking into him roughly on her way out of the room. As she was about to leave, he called after her.

"Is there a name that goes with the attitude?"

She turned and smiled.

"You can call me Aika". And then she was gone.

"Aika… 'love song'…" Nanashi repeated, musing on the irony.

'_Some love song.'_

He let out an irritated sigh that lifted his shoulders markedly before deflating him to his regular slightly hunched posture. Maybe he now realised why he'd never gotten married. By staying single, he'd avoided a whole lot of stress. His thoughts were interrupted as a familiar yearning feeling nagged his lower regions. He glanced around the room to find another girl. He noticed that the large brute had disappeared somewhere.

He instinctively reached down to his side. He grasped for the pouch where he kept his money, but his fingers were left empty. Nanashi frowned and looked down. Sure enough, the pouch was gone. He remembered when Aika had barged past him. The crafty little siren had stolen his money. Well, he had to give her credit… she was a good thief.

With no money, it looked like he wouldn't be getting a girl tonight afterall. What a waste of time. He stood up wearily and paced out of the teahouse. It looked like he was going to have to sate his desires by himself tonight. He stepped out into the cool night air and decided to find some shelter for the night.

*****************

The girl who calls herself 'Aika' paced briskly through the streets. A little smile played on her lips as she fingered the cold metal coins in the pouch she had stolen. Her heart was hammering so hard she could see her chest move with the force. Adrenaline pulsed through her body. She couldn't believe she'd just stolen from a samurai. Maybe it was a dangerous thing to do, but this was what she'd always dreamed of… adventure… something to make her feel alive. She laughed to herself uncontrollably because she just couldn't hold it in. The excitement was too great.

'_Damn! You did it Riko, you actually did it! Just like in one of the old legends!'_

She thought about the nameless samurai. The smile on her lips grew. He seemed like the real deal. She longed to know more. To know about his life, his dreams, the conflicts documented by the scars on his body. What she wouldn't give to tag along with a man like that. She was sure that adventure would be the norm with him. And it would no doubt inspire her with new material for her songs. She smiled and set off running, feeling the freedom as her feet sped over the ground. Her whole life, she'd waited for this feeling. She headed back towards the abandoned barn she currently called home.

Eventually her limbs tired and she slowed down to a steady walk, panting. The night was dark, and there were no lanterns, no sources of light around here. There wasn't another soul in sight. She treaded carefully to avoid falling over. As she squinted through the dark, she suddenly heard the sounds of heavy footfalls behind her.

Her heart jumped to her throat. Had the samurai followed her? Maybe he wasn't as kind as she had thought…

Bracing herself, she turned around, only to be knocked from her feet by something very, very heavy. She landed painfully on the hard ground. She tried to see what was going on, who was attacking her, but in the darkness all she could make out was a large, dark figure. Suddenly a strong hand grasped her hair and she was pulled to her feet. She cried out and tried to free herself. The hand in her hair tightened and she winced. A thick voice laughed.

"That's right angel, _scream_ for me"

She gasped as she recognised the face now illuminated in the moonlight. It was the brute from the teahouse. With a firm movement he twisted her arms behind her back and smashed her face-first into a wall. The girl whimpered as her head bounced painfully against the hard stone.

"W…what are you doing? …Please…"

She was silenced as he smashed her head upside the wall again. She felt a warmth trickled from her forehead. Excited by the sight of her blood, the man made an animalistic noise of arousal.

"I've raped and slaughtered many of your kind, whore. No one knows you're here. You're mine now."

She whined desperately, her body shaking, more convulsing with fear.

'Is this how it ends? Is this really how it ends?'

She switched tactics in a desperate attempt for survival.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" she announced, as confidently as she could manage in her present situation. "My father will have your _head_, you sick bastard!"

"Not before I have yours" he murmured, forcing her down to the ground roughly. He laid all his weight on her. Her crushed lungs screamed for air. He fumbled at his hips, trying to free something. The girl didn't want to think about it. Tears began to spill from her eyes.

'If only I'd stayed at the teahouse, I wouldn't be about to die…"

"Please…" she begged, her voice a desperate sob.

"I'm going to fuck you and kill you at the same time… fuck you, and kill you… at the same time…" he hissed maniacally as he hiked her kimono up around her waist violently.

'_If only I wasn't so hard to please… If only I'd been happy with the life I had instead of being so ungrateful…If only I'd stayed at home instead of searching like this… I'd still be safe within the palace walls…'_

She tried to push him away, to push him off of her, but even using all her strength she was helpless against him. The brute finished 'freeing' himself from his robes. The stink of his arousal was terrifying. His huge, bear-like hands worked there way to her throat.

'No…'

The pressure in her head built up dizzyingly as the hands around her neck squeezed her airways in an unbreakable vice. Her mind was chaos, and so she began to sing her beloved songs in her head as she prepared to be raped. She told herself it would all be over soon. Everyone has to die at some point. Tonight was her turn. The man positioned himself and prepared for his first satisfyingly violent thrust. She squeezed her eyes shut.

There was a scream. Whose scream was it? The girl knew it wasn't hers. She refused to open her eyes. She sensed heat spreading over her body. Or was it… moistness? Then she heard a 'thwack'. Something heavy and round landed on her chest. It had hair. What the hell was going on? What was he doing to her? Slowly, she opened her eyes.

She looked down at the object that had landed on her. Her eyes adjusted. The object on her… was a severed head. The brute's head. She screamed in terror and scrambled to throw the rancid thing away from her. The dead weight of the headless body was still slumped on top of her. She screamed and screamed again. She carried on crying out, although she wasn't aware of it. She was drenched in hot blood. Looking up, she saw a figure standing over her. He was holding a large sword, its bloody blade glinting in the moonlight.

"Samurai…" she called out, crying helplessly. "Samurai… don't…" she choked on a sob. "Don't kill me…"

Nanashi stood motionless, looking down at the affected girl, her kimono hiked up in the most undignified way, her tears streaming, her make-up smudged.

"I… I tried to push him away… tried to push him away…" she murmured, before her eyes rolled back and she passed out, unconscious.

Nanashi looked at her blankly for a few seconds. He let out a heavy breath. She had fainted from the terror, most likely. Still, he'd never seen someone so affected by violence before. In this world, violence was something people were used to.

He stepped towards the brute's corpse and wiped the blood from his katana on the dead man's robes. After re-sheathing his sword, he hauled the body off the geisha. He straightened up again and looked at her, trying to figure out the most proper way to do this. He couldn't exactly leave her here. He bent down and lifted her unconscious body over a broad shoulder. Just as he was about to leave the scene, he noticed a pouch a few meters away. The one she had stolen from him. He grimaced and retrieved it. Then he noticed the girl's shamisen. No doubt she would want it. He retrieved that too, and then walked away, with the girl out cold on his back.

A/N: I would like to thank Wikipedia ;D Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this first chapter! If people like it, I will continue with it, if not, I will go drink tea.


	2. The Deal

"Speaking"

'_Thinking'_

Chapter 2: The Deal

The girl who calls herself 'Aika' felt her consciousness returning. It began like formless, lucid dreams. She was aware of her existence. This gradually became an awareness of her own consciousness. She realised that her body was lying flat out on a cold stone floor. She felt her chest rise and fall with unsteady breaths. Her mind was on edge. Every neuron in her brain was alert, and they seemed to be screaming danger at her. Looking around in the darkness, she surmised that she was in some kind of shack. She tried to recall how she had got here.

She twisted her body, leaning on one shaky elbow, trying to sit up. Immediately she stopped when waves of pain ripped through her. Her skull was searing and her body felt broken. She noticed that her gilded golden yellow kimono was wet all down the front. She hissed in sodden discomfort, examining the garment to inspect the damage. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness and she saw a dark liquid soaked into the front of the kimono. The first explanation she thought of was that she must have spilt a drink down herself. She frowned and wiped a finger against her kimono until it was smeared with the dark liquid. Bringing the finger to her lips, she tasted it. In an instant she began to spit violently. The dark liquid wasn't wine or any other drink… it was blood. The heavy metallic taste caught in her throat and the smell filled her nostrils, making her wretch.

Realising she was soaked in blood, she began tearing at the kimono, shuddering and ripping the expensive cloth from her body in disgust until all that clothed her were her under-robes. She huddled into a corner, preferring to freeze than to marinade in the congealed blood of a stranger. All at once she remembered, the images all too piercing. She remembered the violent blows, the sadistic threats of rape and death, the severed head. She tried to cry out in terror, but her throat felt raw and bloody as if she had already screamed too much. The noise she made came out as a painful, hoarse shriek. Tears spilled from her eyes and she trembled uncontrollably. The violence had left a strong psychological impact on her, and the trauma was overwhelming.

To her horror, the door slid open and an imposing figure appeared, silhouetted against some firelight from outside. She saw the sword at his hip. It was the nameless samurai. She grew even more distressed, crying and screaming, expecting the worst.

Nanashi stood there silently for a moment, watching her as if he was unsure what to do in this situation. The girl was helplessly pressed up against the wall, trying to create as much distance between them as possible. When he'd decided that she probably wasn't going to stop screaming any time soon, he decided he had to find a way to shut her up. He walked over and grabbed her firmly from behind, clamping a strong hand over her mouth to muffle her cries. She kicked and struggled, but it was no use. The samurai was incredibly strong. He brought his mouth to her ear and began to speak in a calm, matter-of-fact tone.

"I'm not going to hurt you, but I'm also not going to let go until you stop screaming."

The courtesan continued to struggle, but not for long. She was tired and her body hurt. She calmed down and stilled her efforts, although still crying a little. Nanashi held her there a little while longer, almost as if to prove that he intended to do her no harm. Afterall, if he'd wanted to attack her, he would have done it by now. So he stayed there, holding her still in a strong grip, in the same way that a person would tame a wild horse.

When he had decided that she was calmer now, he cautiously loosened his grip on her, but not completely in case she decided to set off screaming again. She didn't, and he let her go, very slowly so as not to startle her. He moved away in the direction of the door.

"That's better" he sighed, bringing a hand up to massage his temple. He slid the door shut behind him.

The geisha stood still for a few seconds, watching the door through which Nanashi had just exited. She was puzzled and disorientated, and her head began to spin, so she slumped down to the floor. Not long after, Nanashi appeared again, holding a cup of something hot. He offered it to her. She regarded him suspiciously.

"It's tea" he explained.

She was cold and thirsty, and so she took the cup from him. He walked over to the other side of the small hut and began busying himself doing something, although she couldn't see what. Finding her voice, she spoke.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked quietly. The pain of her shredded vocal cords wouldn't allow for a greater volume anymore.

Nanashi didn't turn to face her as he answered.

"Would you rather I'd left you there in the middle of the street with your kimono hiked up and a headless corpse between your legs?"

His comment made the girl suddenly aware of her lack of clothes in the presence of a man, and she blushed intensely, her honour tainted. In Japanese culture, it was terribly shameful for a woman to expose bare skin in public, and there she was… bare arms, naked legs, shoulders exposed. Nanashi noticed her reaction and casually tossed a blanket towards her. She grabbed it and bundled it around herself, humiliated. Then, the courtesan ignored the tinge of sarcasm in his previous response and saw fit to give credit where it was due.

"Thank you…" she whispered, taking a sip of hot tea to soothe her throat.

Nanashi simply nodded. Then he walked towards the door and the fire outside.

"Come and sit by the fire or you'll freeze."

She nodded and followed him outside, being careful to cover her body completely with the blanket. Nanashi watched her shy modesty from the other side of the fire.

'_Strange behaviour for a Geisha…' _he mused.

The girl sat beside the fire quietly and watched the flames. The light danced across her features. She was still shaking slightly from shock, and every so often she made a slight mewling sound as her battered body was bombarded with pain again. Her head was cut, and although it wasn't a bad injury, there was dried blood down one side of her face. Her make-up was smudged. Her eye make-up especially had run down her cheeks from when she'd cried. Her hair was in disarray. She was the very picture of a pitiful beauty, tainted. Nanashi noticed that her eyes showed she was lost. Maybe not physically, but somewhere deep inside… Her soul was lost. Nanashi glanced over at her every now and then but kept his head bowed slightly, so it didn't look like he was watching her. Not that it mattered. Her eyes were fixed firmly on the flames, as if she was searching for the spark that could re-ignite her spirit.

"So… Are you going to tell me the truth?" Nanashi said at last.

The girl looked at him blankly.

"You're not a geisha, are you?" he continued.

"No. I told you already, I'm a musician. An artist" she complained.

"That's not what I meant. The kimono you were wearing… It's yellow."

The girl scrunched up her nose in confusion. What was so special about a yellow kimono? Many of her garments were yellow.

"So?" she snapped.

Nanashi sighed as if he found the girl's foolishness tiresome.

"Yellow is the most expensive pigment. Only nobility wear robes of yellow" he explained. Having served royalty in his days as a samurai general, he knew this fact well, although he didn't tell her that part.

"Even the most successful geisha wouldn't be able to afford yellow robes" he concluded.

The girl was impressed at his reasoning. True, even she hadn't known this fact, but now she thought about it, it was true… she'd never seen a commoner wearing yellow. She sighed heavily, and decided to tell Nanashi the truth, for better or for worse. He deserved that much. He'd saved her life.

"My name is not Aika. It's Riko. Shimizu Riko."

Nanashi nodded. The Shimizu family was the clan that ruled the Shirato province. He waited for her to continue. She sighed again before doing so.

"My father is the Lord of Shirato. That makes me the princess…" she spat the word princess as if it were a foul-tasting curse. She was quiet for a few seconds, and then,

"I've lived my whole life as nothing but a prisoner!" she shouted hoarsely, as if arguing her point to an unforgiving jury. "My mother is a harsh woman, and my father cares nothing for others. All he cares about are power and riches. And I… I was merely a trophy, to be thrown into an arranged marriage, all in the name of 'political stability'". She spat the words again, which she seemed to have a habit of doing when she disapproved of something. "By selling me off to the highest bidder, my father could extend his ambition through me… He planned on marrying me to the Lord of a different province, a man over twice my age! Thus my father could enforce his influence on that province". Her voice quieted almost to a whisper. "Before I ran away, I'd hardly ever seen anything beyond the palace walls… Men weren't allowed to look upon me, lest they be punished. What a miserable existence…" She paused for a moment before continuing.

"I realised I had to choose from one of two options: I could commit suicide, or I could escape. Obviously I chose the latter. I got this _ridiculous _idea that I would run away to some distant land, hiding my identity, free to live among normal people", she smiled, as if normal people were actually the most precious treasures in the world. Perhaps to Riko, they were. "…Free to live, and write my songs. Free to be _free_…"

"I thought that impersonating a geisha would be the perfect way to do this. That way, I could play my music all day, and observe the lives of the people around me". Again, the faint smile. "I wanted adventure. Something that made me feel alive. Like the air I was breathing was _real_. I wanted to know that my existence counted for _something_, and that it wasn't just pointless". Her brows strained with painful sorrow.

"But now I realise how naïve I was", she said, her tone changing. "I can't survive in this world beyond the palace walls. Just look what happened tonight".

A look of the most hopeless despair appeared upon her face, and Nanashi was glad there wasn't a blade anywhere near her – she really looked ready to commit hara-kiri right there and then. And after the evening he'd had, he really didn't want to have to deal with a suicide as well.

"It's hopeless. Why did I go through with such a stupid idea…" she hissed.

"Hmm. It is pretty stupid" Nanashi agreed. Riko cast a hurt glance in his direction. "Well how did you expect to survive in such a violent world on your own, and with no fighting skills?"

Still, he thought she was quite brave. Not many girls would have taken the chance Riko had taken. But bravery was not something generally valued in Japanese women. He didn't say any of these thoughts out loud, though.

Riko began to fidget with a corner of the blanket wrapped around her. She glanced at Nanashi nervously. When his brown eyes met her gaze she quickly looked away again.

"Mr. Samurai, you've already done so much for me… but… Please may I ask one more favour…?"

Nanashi didn't answer, but Riko continued anyway.

"Please… take me back to the palace. Take me back to Shirato…" she said solemnly.

Nanashi sighed. "Seriously… Shirato again?" he murmured, recalling the troublesome journey he and Kotaro had made some years earlier.

"Huh?" Riko responded, but once again didn't wait for an answer. "I don't expect you to do it for free. I _am_ a princess afterall. Just think of the reward you'll get when you take me back!" she pleaded.

Nanashi groaned disapprovingly, furrowing his brows as if the whole thing sounded like too much trouble for him. His fingers pinched his chin in reluctance.

'Seriously…How do I get myself into these situations? All I do is mind my own business and try to live an easy life…' he thought to himself.

"Please Mr. Samurai!" she cried, "I need you to take me back! I can't go by myself. I'm scared!"

Nanashi frowned at the girl's desperate pleas. As if he didn't have enough guilt to deal with already without her making him feel even guiltier. He sighed.

"Ok"

Riko quickly bowed her head in thanks, the way she had seen the servants do back at the palace. Of course, the last thing she wanted to do was return home (if she could call it home, that is), but it was her only choice. At least with Nanashi she could be sure of a safer journey home.

"The reward had better be good" Nanashi grumbled in complaint.

"Oh, you'll be rich, I swear it!" she promised.

He didn't reply for a while. He simply sat by the fire serenely. Then he made a noise like he'd just remembered something. He reached behind him somewhere in the dark and retrieved a familiar looking object.

"I think this belongs to you…"

Riko's eyes lit up and her heart jumped with happiness when Nanashi handed her shamisen to her. She embraced it with such adoration he almost smiled. It reminded him of how Kotaro was with Tobimaru. Although he guessed that the shamisen was a little less violent than the dog. But that still remained to be seen.

"Thank you Mr Samurai! Thank you so much!". She halted as something crossed her mind.

"I'm… I'm sorry I stole from you…"

This time, Nanashi did smile.

"No you're not" he said as he poured the two of them another cup of tea. "But… it was a clever move. I didn't even notice until after you'd left the teahouse."

For the first time that night, the two of them smiled together.

"You sure are many things, aren't you?" he commented wryly. "A courtesan, an artist, a thief, a princess…"

_And a pain in the ass, _he thought. But he didn't say it out loud.

************************************

Author's Notes: A brand new shiny chapter for you! What did you think? I just hope I'm doing the anime some justice… *bows shyly* … Nanashi sure is a difficult character to write! Let me know your opinions :D

Author's Thanks:

JB Cinemas – Thank you so much! You were my first review for this story and encouraged me to continue with it. I'm glad you're enjoying it. I hope this chapter has been just as enjoyable.

VoltActionSniper – Quite awesome indeed! Thank you for your lovely comments, it's always nice to hear the reasons why people like the story. It inspires me! I hope to keep up the same sense of adventure and possibility as the story evolves. As for it being well written… Well, I'm always super-critical of my own work, but I try my best . I hope you continue to enjoy it! Thanks so much!

Illegitimi – I was blown away by the anime too… the title sequence was just… woah. I mean, Rarou is one seriously brutal bastard, lol. But he's great XD and the music is fantastic too. Damn it, the whole thing is just amazing. And don't you think Nanashi's Japanese voice actor has the smexiest voice ever? And you'll be glad to know, the film IS getting a cinema release! I saw it at an international film festival in November, but SOTS is being released in normal cinemas sometime this year as far as I know. It's well worth seeing on the big screen. I hope it wins at the Oscars too… Thank you for your lovely comments and encouragement, Illegitimi…

Reviews are always appreciated. Take care people, and until the next update… Ja, mata ne!


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